<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>a thousand and one ways to piss a chef off by oblivioluna</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24154678">a thousand and one ways to piss a chef off</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/oblivioluna/pseuds/oblivioluna'>oblivioluna</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>My Nemesis, The Bane of My Existence [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Purple Hyacinth (Webcomic)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blasphemy, Eggs Ruin Integrity, F/M, TW: Potato Peelers, The Slap-Slap-Kiss Romance We All Deserved</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:55:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,189</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24154678</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/oblivioluna/pseuds/oblivioluna</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"My nemesis," Lauren Sinclair says, stroking an egg with the utmost fondness.</p>
<p>"I don't think you know what a nemesis is," says Kym, sipping her coffee.</p>
<p>____</p>
<p>(or, a head chef and a cop duel it out. only one will come out of this alive.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lauren Sinclair/Kieran White</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>My Nemesis, The Bane of My Existence [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742629</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>82</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a thousand and one ways to piss a chef off</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Three weeks ago, Kieran White had been beaten once again by Lauren Sinclair, cop extraordinaire, or as she was better known around these Texan parts, 'Egg Witch.'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And now he is beside himself with fury.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lila, one of the fry cooks, watches in horror as Kieran slams his spatula against the counter. "That stupid egg woman is ruining my integrity as a head chef!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lukas tosses a pancake in the air. "You have no integrity, and this is a Waffle House-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>"I KNOW."</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The two co-workers share a knowing glance, not bothering to lift a finger as Kieran starts pounding potatoes with a masher in furious anger. The normally cool and calm head chef has rarely lost his head over anything; not even when there was an oil spill problem in '21, and definitely not when there was the whole chicken fiasco in '23 when the police had shown up and shut the restaurant down for three months due to supposed strains of E. Coli coming from the barbecue chicken sandwiches.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And now, all of a sudden, for no reason, he is promptly going insane over a cop and her penchant for eggs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"To be fair, you kind of started this," Lila stutters, flicking her brown hair to the side. "You s-shouldn't have teased her about her eggs. Why her, anyway?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kieran loudly chops a carrot in half. It sounds like a gunshot.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Someone in the diner looks up from their omelet in fear.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>"Why her?" </em>he says dangerously quietly. "Do you want to know the answer to that, Lila?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'll start prepping for your funeral, honey."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Don't you dare, Lukas," Lila yelps, throwing a potato at her boyfriend's head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>____</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> <strong>A MONTH AGO</strong> </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cane's is the fried chicken pride of Austin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It is Lauren Sinclair's bane of existence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The stupid, feathery, mustard-colored chicken mascot is currently doing ballet splits outside the restaurant as cars pull in, and as she and Kym wait patiently from the inside of the vehicle, Lauren cannot help but feel an intrinsic hatred for it. That same mascot - and the same person inside the mascot - had once damaged her car a year ago, and hadn't even bothered to pay for the fines that came afterwards. The damn chicken had driven away without a thought, too. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now, she resists the urge to taser said chicken.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kym crunches on a fry. "You've got that look in your eye. Murdering face."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm a detective. I don't murder."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You know, for someone who can detect lies pretty well, you lie really often."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It's eight o'clock at night, Kym, and I really don't feel like acknowledging the ten-year old scar of trauma my hypocrisy has brought me."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"This is why you need to get a new therapist."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Touche."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Their target comes out of the Cane's with a plastic bag full of food, and the second he does, Lauren and Kym get out of the car, the latter holding up her badge mid-air. Lauren's eyes do not leave the chicken, who is bopping back and forth to Cotton Eye Joe blasting from the speakers above.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Sergeant Kym Ladell and Detective Lauren Sinclair. We're here to-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The man promptly takes one good look at them, and decides to run for his life. Kym yells at her for them to split and catch the culprit, but Lauren's already on it, tossing off her jacket and running straight for the backlot of Cane's, leaping over a fence and darting towards the only car in the lot of the fast food restaurant. The man appears as soon as she does, Kym hot on his heels. Her handcuffs are in her hands, and-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The chicken from earlier slams directly into her side.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lauren sees red, and without thinking, bodyslams the chicken into the pavement.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>____</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The chicken had been in the way.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(The chicken's bones had been broken.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(Lauren was demoted after an hour shouting match between Dakan and Hermann, with Kym's laughter as a backing track for the entire affair.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(Lauren promptly lost interest in any and all sitcoms after that incident.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>____</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong> <em>PRESENT DAY</em> </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"So, you were the Cane's mascot-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I had a favor to call in with a friend," Kieran grits out, breaking an egg with one hand. "The Egg Witch will be <em>mine </em>to destroy one day."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>____</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mariah Carey's 'Obsessed' is blasting from the speakers in the Waffle House, and Lauren finds it fitting. When she enters, dressed in all black, the customers take it as their signal to start chiming the waitresses, and leave. One couple wraps their food up in their napkins and doesn't even bother asking for take-out boxes. The kitchen is bare safe for two fry cooks, and <em>him, </em>who is looking at Lauren with the most devious smile on his face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He has an egg in hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lauren glares at him. It is the sort of glare that says <em>you will die a sudden and terrible death.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kieran glares right back. It is the sort of glare that says <em>try me.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>The egg cracks in his nimble hands.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lauren swallows harshly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Don't you dare," she mutters under her breath.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kieran winks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And the egg drops onto the stove.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Three seconds pass.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He has successfully made poached eggs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She sighs and grabs the nearest mop. The janitor does not object.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Ten bucks that lady kills him," a kid bets to his nearby friend, as he sips on orange juice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Twenty he kills <em>her,</em>" the other boy bets, giggling as they swap money. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She tosses aside the mop at the last second as Kieran moves to grab his spatula, successfully distracting him and landing an uppercut to his perfectly chiseled jaw.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>____</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At five o'clock in the morning, Kieran hears her enter.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He tosses a cheese omelet directly into her face. It slides down her cheek, and she does not move a muscle, which is more terrifying than he imagined. In all of their rehearsals, she has never once looked at him with impasse.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lauren cocks a Nerf water gun at him and sprays his face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>____</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(She wins that time.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(The current tally is now 8-6.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>____</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next time she comes in, Kieran coats the floors with Persil.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She slips and falls to her knees.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He serves up four pairs of scrambled eggs to a family, all while staring her right in the eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(The tally is now 8-7.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Something in her gaze makes him not want to look away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He must really hate this woman.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>____</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lauren has brought the big guns this time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Literally.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At one o'clock in the morning, no one is around to hear Kieran White's shrieks as two golden retrievers exit the building with a dozen packs of eggs in their mouths each, wagging their tails dutifully as Lauren Sinclair pats their heads, crooning that they are good boys all while never breaking eye contact with the head chef.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(The tally is now 9-7.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>____</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"My nemesis," Lauren Sinclair says, stroking an egg with the utmost fondness.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I don't think you know what a nemesis is," says Kym, sipping her coffee. "Can you please fry your own eggs now?"</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>twitter: @volonxite<br/>ko-fi:  <a href="https://ko-fi.com/obliviolunaiswriting"> here</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>